


I'm Home (With You)

by BonkyBornes



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Christmas, Fluff, I listened to Christmas music in October to write this, M/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, multiple proposals, please comment author craves validation, there's a tiny bit of angst but it's mostly happy fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:27:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26843596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BonkyBornes/pseuds/BonkyBornes
Summary: In any other circumstance, the apartment would've been perfect. But it was today, and the fact that he was here meant he wasn’t out searching. He knew they hadn’t had any leads for weeks and he knew Natasha was right; all three of them were exhausted and a break would do them good. It just felt wrong to Steve that he was comfortable while Bucky was still out there—somewhere. Probably cold. Probably hungry.The knock came again. Sighing, Steve unwrapped his hand from the dog tags and remembered how to move. Cold wind and snow greeted him when he opened the door. The solitary figure was walking down the steps, collar popped against the chill.“Did you need something?” he called.The person stopped. They were still. And then they turned.*Or, the Christmas Steve deserved after Winter Soldier.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 28
Kudos: 158





	I'm Home (With You)

**Author's Note:**

> It's October? What's that? It's not time to be listening to Christmas music and fantasizing about snow? Oops? Have some fluff as an apology

Natasha and Sam had just left the tiny apartment Steve called home these days, calling final Merry Christmas’ over their shoulder. Sam brushed snow off the windshield before they both slipped into the tiny black car Natasha was overly fond of. Steve waited on the step, hand raised in farewell until the car slid away from the cub and disappeared onto a cross street. Even then, he waited until his hands and feet were nearly frozen, snow gathering on his shoulders, before going back inside his empty apartment. 

In any other circumstances, Steve would’ve said it was nice. It  _ was _ nice. From the outside, it could probably even be called picturesque. Natasha and Sam had done a good job at transforming it into a place that looked loved. A comfortable leather couch and armchair sat in front of a cozy fire. On top of the mantel, a nutcracker stood nestled within garland and lights. Three stockings hung below, freshly emptied. The Christmas tree Sam insisted on decorating sat in front of a large bay window. Even with the rest of the lights off, the lights from the tree and mantel provided the living room with a soft white glow. 

In any other circumstance, it would’ve been perfect. But it was today, and the fact that he was here meant he wasn’t out searching. He knew they hadn’t had any leads for weeks and he knew Natasha was right; all three of them were exhausted and a break would do them good. It just felt wrong to Steve that he was comfortable while Bucky was still out there—somewhere. Probably cold. Probably hungry. 

Still chilled, he went to stand in front of the window, his fingers tangling in the dog tags that always rested over his heart. It was the type of Christmas Eve he’d always dreamed of as a kid. Snow slowly falling in large, heavy flakes. Carolers singing down the street. Multicolored lights reflecting off the snow. He hated how pretty it was. 

_ “You might think it’s beautiful, but it’s freezing, Stevie.” Bucky stood on the edge of the ravine, looking down at the river below. All of it was white, completely covered by ice and snow.  _

_ “That’s just your soul,” Steve replied with a grin, earning a glare from Bucky who grumbled and rubbed his hands up and down his arms. Their breath clouded in front of them.  _

_ Steve looked around. The rest of the Howlies were busy making camp and the frozen treeline hid them from view. Satisfied, he slid an arm around Bucky’s waist and pulled him against him. Bucky wrapped both arms around him. Steve jumped when the cold top of his nose buried into his neck.  _

_ “Ass,” he chuckled.  _

_ “Not my fault you’re a furnace now,” came Bucky’s muffled reply.  _

_ Steve didn’t say anything in reply, not wanting to waste this precious time. It was a rare moment of peace. He pressed his cheek against Bucky’s cold hair and closed his eyes. For a singular moment, he could pretend they weren’t in Italy.  _

_ “You know, if we both get out of this alive, I’m going to marry you,” Bucky said quietly, head still on Steve’s shoulder.  _

_ “What?”  _

_ “I’m going to say fuck it and marry you, Rogers. Christmas Eve, just because it would make your ma shake her head.” He lifted his head and raised a shaking finger. “You don’t go taking attention away from the Good Lord now, you hear?” he said in a passable imitation of Sarah Rogers’ thick Irish accent. “Sorry, Ma Rogers, but I can be more important for one night.”  _

_ Steve laughed. “You’re crazy, Buck.” That didn’t mean he didn’t want it though.  _

_ Bucky turned so their chests were pressed together. Frost dusted his eyelashes. His eyes were serious. God, he was beautiful.  _

_ “Maybe I am, but I’m going to do it anyway. Unless you’re saying you don’t want to marry me. That might make me reconsider this whole proposal thing.”  _

_ Steve didn’t bother looking before pressing his lips to Bucky’s. “I want to,” he said when he pulled away.  _

_ Bucky’s eyes shone. They should probably head back to camp before the Howlies wondered where they got to, but Steve couldn’t care less at the moment. Not when Bucky was looking at him like he hung the moon. Not when Steve felt like he was safe for the first time in weeks.  _

_ “Does this make you my fiancé?” Steve asked. He’d always hated the word. Now he kinda liked it. It claimed him as something that felt real and substantial. It tied him even more firmly to the man he loved.  _

_ A soft smile curled on Bucky’s lips. “Fiancé. I like the sound of that. Wish I had a ring to put on your finger to stop all the ladies from oogling you.”  _

_ And then he unwrapped himself from Steve and pulled his dog tags out from under his uniform. He put them around Steve’s neck. “Keep me safe, punk,” he said.  _

_ “Until my dying day,” Steve promised. He pulled his own tags from where they rested over his heart and gave them to Bucky. “Keep watching my back, jerk.” _

_ Bucky caught Steve’s hand before he pulled it away, keeping it pressed against his heart. “Always,” he whispered before kissing him. Steve closed his eyes, his free hand on Bucky’s back. He didn’t know how he’d gotten so lucky.  _

_ “We should head back,” Bucky whispered against his lips. “We’ve been ‘scouting the area’ for a while.”  _

_ “I don’t care,” Steve whispered back. “I want this for just a bit longer. If everything goes as planned tomorrow, it’ll be our last chance in a while.”  _

_ So Bucky kissed him again and then turned so his back was against Steve’s chest. Steve wrapped his arms around him, and they stood watching the ravine until it started to snow.  _

_ “Beautiful,” Steve said.  _

_ “Frozen hellscape,” Bucky answered. He unwrapped himself from Steve’s arms. “Come on, Rogers. I want to be able to feel my toes before I have to jump onto a train tomorrow.”  _

_ Steve pressed one final kiss to his cold lips. And then another quick one for good measure. Bucky laughed and shook his head. Steve grinned. And hands wrapped together until they could see the fire the Howlies had been able to get going, they walked back.  _

There was a knock on Steve’s door. Steve blinked, reorienting himself in the dark living room of his apartment. It was probably carolers hoping to bring some joy, having seen him standing alone. The knock came again. Steve ignored it. And there was silence. Five minutes later, the knocking came again. 

Sighing, Steve unwrapped his hand from the tags and remembered how to move. Cold wind and snow greeted him when he opened the door. The solitary figure was walking down the steps, collar popped against the chill. 

“Did you need something?” he called.

The person stopped. They slowly turned around, their head ducked. Steve squinted, trying to make out a face. They were on the top step. Steve stopped breathing. He reached a hand out to make sure this was real. And then Steve pulled Bucky close, wrapped his arms around him and held him tight. After a moment of hesitation, Bucky returned the hug, pressing his face into Steve’s neck. His nose was cold. 

Steve pulled away, just enough to really look at the man standing in front of him. In all accounts of the word, he looked good. His hair was short and looked freshly washed. A shadow of a beard darkened his jaw. The black coat he wore looked like it was made of wool. Steve breathed a laugh of astonishment and pulled him back into a crushing hug. This time it was Bucky who pushed away. 

“Hey,” he said quietly, chin ducked. 

“You’re alive,” was all Steve could say. 

Bucky rubbed the back of his neck. He wasn’t wearing gloves. Their breath clouded. 

“I-yeah.” 

Steve’s brain worked overtime to try and figure out what to say while his body sat numb. Part of him couldn’t believe that this was real, that his mind had created yet another way to torture him. Bucky rubbed his hands up and down his arms. Steve remembered he was standing in his doorway. 

“Do you want to come in?” he asked. 

Almost shyly, Bucky nodded. Steve stepped back into the warmth and Bucky walked in, closing the door behind him. In the dark entrance hall, they stood almost chest to chest. Steve could feel the chill from Bucky’s skin. Bucky’s breath faltered. Steve took a step back. Bucky took his coat and shoes off and followed Steve into the living room, where he stood awkwardly by the couch. 

“I know I should’ve tried reaching out before coming here, I just-” Bucky’s voice faltered when he saw Steve staring at him. 

“How’ve you been, Buck?” Because nothing else mattered anymore. They stood feet apart because Steve didn’t know if he could trust himself if he stood closer. 

“I’ve been better,” he admitted. “But I’m okay.” 

“You look good,” Steve said before he could stop himself. Taking off his coat revealed that he was wearing a thick blue sweater—the same shade his favorite jacket had been during the war. With his arm hidden and his hair short, there was almost no physical trace of the weapon he’d been forced to become. He looked like Bucky. He looked like—Steve wouldn’t let himself think the word. Reliving the memory had been painful enough. 

Bucky’s hand went to his hair. “I needed a change. You know, wanted to feel more like me again.” 

“And do you?” Natasha would’ve cuffed him if she knew Steve had let Bucky in without making sure he wasn’t trying to kill him. It just hadn’t mattered in the moment. Still didn’t, actually.

Bucky nodded. “I’m good, Stevie. Really. There are still big gaps in my memory—most of the war is still gone—but it’s coming back, slowly.” 

Steve had to stop himself from asking if he remembered the day before the train. It didn’t matter. He’d failed in his promise to keep Bucky safe. 

“Where are you staying now?” he asked instead. 

“Here and there,” Bucky answered. He ducked his head. “I’m going to Romania tomorrow to try and start over.” 

Something in Steve’s chest tightened. Possibly his heart, but it had been dead for so long he didn’t know if it could wither anymore. “You’re leaving?” 

“Unless you can give me a reason to stay,” Bucky whispered. 

And Steve knew that was his chance, but he was rooted to the spot, one arm hanging at his side, the other crossed across his chest. “Aren’t I enough?” is what he asked instead. His breath trembled. 

In the firelight, Bucky’s face looked painfully sad. “You stopped looking. I thought maybe you’d given up on me.”

Steve found himself crossing the gap that separated him. One hand held Bucky’s shoulder, the other, trembling, caressed his cheek. “Oh love,” he whispered. “I would start wars for you.” 

The joy and pain in Bucky’s eyes was almost enough to make Steve cry. Their lips were painfully close. Bucky swallowed. 

“I have something for you, if you’ll let me,” Bucky said, his voice cracking. 

Steve nodded but didn’t move. Bucky’s hand shook as it went to his pocket and removed a small wrapped box. Steve took it and unwrapped it. His heart stopped. Bucky remembered. 

“I know it’s sudden and after everything, I don’t have any right and you don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to. I just thought-”

But what Bucky thought Steve never found out because he finally kissed him. And by god, did the world finally feel right again. Seventy years without kissing the man he loved was too long. Bucky breathed in relief and kissed him back, arms wrapping around Steve’s back. 

When Steve finally pulled away, Bucky rested his head on his shoulder, his hand on his chest. There was a slight pressure on his neck when Bucky’s fingers tangled in the dog tags. 

“You still have them,” he said, lifting his head. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t keep my promise,” Steve whispered, looking down. “I couldn’t keep you safe.” 

Bucky’s metal fingers brushed over his cheek. Their foreheads touched. “But you did. It took them years to break me because of you,” he said. “The thought of you kept me fighting. The thought of this. I never forgot you, not really.” 

“Marry me,” Steve whispered. 

“What?” 

“You asked me to give you a reason to stay.” He picked up the box from where it had fallen to the floor and presented it to Bucky. The burnished gold gleamed in the firelight. “Marry me.” 

“You’re asking me with the rings I bought? Cheap, Rogers.” He was grinning and for that moment, all the years were washed away. There was only here and now. 

“You never got around to asking the question. You gonna answer me?” 

“Believe it or not, Rogers, I’m already engaged.”

“Yeah?” Steve smiled. “Who’s the lucky guy?” 

“A little punk of a kid who followed me into a war.” 

“He sounds like a handful,” Steve said. 

“You have no idea.” 

“You marrying me or not?” Steve asked, taking out one of the rings. 

“On Christmas Eve? What would your ma say?” Bucky’s eyes gleamed. “You saying I’m more important than the Good Lord?” 

“Fine, go to Romania,” Steve said, pushing away from Bucky’s chest. Bucky pulled him back. 

“Of course I’ll marry you,” Bucky said. “So long as you’ll marry me.” 

Steve was so happy he didn’t even have it in him to give Bucky grief for that. “Just do it already.” 

So Bucky picked up Steve’s left hand and slipped the remaining ring on Steve’s finger. It fit like it had always belonged. Steve took the ring in his palm and did the same for Bucky. 

“Does this make you my husband?” Bucky whispered against his lips. 

“I like the sound of that,” Steve replied and kissed him again.

At one point they went to stand in front of the window. The scene hadn’t changed. It still snowed, multicolored lights reflecting off the ice. Maybe the carolers had grown closer. Bucky rested against Steve’s chest. 

“It’s kinda beautiful, isn’t it?” Bucky asked. 

Steve’s head rested against Bucky’s hair and he watched his reflection in the frosted glass. The crinkles by his eyes, the way he kept looking down at his hand and smiling. “Yeah,” he said. “It really is.” 

“Does this mean you’re staying?” Steve asked later. At one point that night, the apartment had finally started feeling like a home. Later, he’d have to send a thank you to Sam and Natasha for their help with the decorations. It could wait though. Everything could wait. 

“Yeah,” Bucky said, tilting his head up to look at him. He looked at Steve like he hung the moon. Steve was sure he looked the same. “I think it means I’m home.” 

Steve kissed him softly and readjusted his arms. Bucky settled himself more firmly against his chest. And they stood and watched the snow until the carolers faded into silence and they only had each other. But it was enough. 

It would always be enough. 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments provide joy and joy produces more writing <3 
> 
> Follow me on tumblr @padfoot-and-the-marauders


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